Chapter 44
“Where did you get to?” William shouts.
Olivia has finally caught up, and skis over to the group as quickly as she can. Pontus turns his head and gives her a supercilious grin, as if he is pleased not to be last for once.
Is this the thanks she gets for feeling sorry for him before? That’s the last time she tries to be nice to him. There are limits to how much unpleasantness she is prepared to put up with.
“I got disorientated and missed the piste,” she admits. “I went too far over to the side and nearly fell down the drop.”
The fog is so thick she can barely make out their faces. Not that there is much to see: They are all wearing black helmets and mirrored goggles.
“Did you hurt yourself?” William asks.
He is the only one who seems to care. Amir doesn’t even look up, and Pontus yawns.
“I’m fine. I managed . . . to keep my balance . . . so I didn’t . . . actually fall.”
Olivia is still out of breath, so her words come out in short bursts. She doesn’t understand how she could have missed the piste, after all the times she has skied down from Skutan. She drives her poles down into the snow and takes deep breaths through her mouth.
The feeling when the ground disappeared from beneath her right ski and she lost control lingers unpleasantly. Her hands are shaking inside her gloves.
“You mustn’t crash on a day like this,” William warns her. “The ski patrol would never find you.”
Olivia finds this unhelpful, to say the least.
They are halfway down the Tusenmetersbacken, a steep downhill run that leads into the trail to Hummeln.
The West Ravine is on their left—a deep, tree-covered chasm with treacherous terrain. The sharp rocks are concealed by a thin covering of snow, while the Susab?cken stream, which doesn’t always freeze over, runs through the middle.
The ravine ends at the Fj?llg?rdsexpressen lift.
In spite of the poor visibility, Olivia can see that the snow in that direction is untouched. Which means that no one else has taken that route today—presumably because it would be an idiotic thing to do in this weather. If you’re not careful, you could get badly hurt.
“Maybe we’re pushing too hard for a girl?” Amir suddenly says. “I mean, if Olivia can’t stay on her feet even where there’s a decent piste?”
He looks at her for the first time since breakfast.
“Maybe you should go home and rest; then we won’t have to slow down because of you?”
He hasn’t said a word to her since they argued, but now he’s really going for it.
Fucking bastard.
Pontus doesn’t say anything, but Olivia has the feeling he doesn’t object to Amir’s attack. Maybe he was offended earlier, when she suggested that the two of them should head home?
She glances at William, hoping for moral support, but he has taken out his phone and is busy reading a message, presumably from his father, who has texted nonstop over the past twenty-four hours.
William seems oblivious to the bad vibes. Either that or he can’t be bothered to come to her defense. Maybe he thinks she has only herself to blame after what happened at breakfast.
Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t care; she can handle both Amir and Pontus. But today it feels like hard work. The weather is a huge problem, and she doesn’t want to be left behind.
They have to stick together.
She really wants to get back to the warmth, to the house in Sadeln. Hang out with Emil, who would never attack her just to win points with someone like William.
But she can’t give up—she is not going to give Amir the satisfaction. Besides which, she is as good a skier as he is, probably better.
Amir needs to keep his mouth shut.
Anger makes her throw caution to the wind. Amir is not going to win. Fuck him.
“It’s cool,” she says nonchalantly. “Let’s go.”
Before William can even open his mouth, she takes the initiative.
“The West Ravine, right?”